


A Different Kind of Fear

by littlebark



Series: Anna Hawke [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Moving On, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 07:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3372965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebark/pseuds/littlebark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kirkwall falls, Hawke knows she has little time before things go south - for herself and the family she's made of her friends. This journey began with four Hawkes, only two are left... what is she to do when Carver refuses to leave?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind of Fear

**Author's Note:**

> It always bothered me that Hawke tells the Inquisitor that she had Aveline take Carver out of the Free Marches... Carver never did well being "told what to do", even when it was for his safety (really Carver? I didn't take you to the Deep Roads so you became a Templar?!). This is my take on how it went down.

"I've asked Aveline to take you out of the Free Marches, get you away from the fighting. Go and grab your things, Carver. Get back in an hour, do you think you can manage in an hour?" 

He stares at Hawke, at the sister he no longer recognizes. He sees a ragged woman across the table from him, shoving potions and trinkets into a bag. That alone is almost too much, too familiar. 

They've done it all their lives, and here is she, expecting him to do it again. Except this time, it's just them. There's no Father or Mother, not even Bethany. They are alone. 

"I'm not running," he says, clenching his mouth shut before anything else he is desperate to say comes out. 

Hawke spins around, eyes narrowing. They hold each other's gaze, and he has to look away before too long. He sees their father in her eyes, and disappointment he cannot seem to escape. "We have to, Carver. You don't think the Divine will send a bloody Exalted March after what An-". Her eyes slam shut, her fists clench. Once, twice, she takes a deep breath before she continues, "Carver, she can't ignore what he did."

"I'm a templar," He mutters and doesn't miss the way she flinches, "I can't just come and go at your whim, Anna." 

At this, she throws her head back and laughs. A hoarse, terrible laugh that chills him. This is not the sister he remembers. "At my whim, is it? Trust me, Carver. Contrary to what you must believe, having to uproot our life is not at all what I want. Not after everything we've done here, what this place has become for us."

It's home. She doesn't have to say it, because he knows. Even with everything that's happened, everything she's done and has unwillingly allowed to happen, this is her home and her heart bleeds for Kirkwall. His heart, it's bleeding too. "I can't just leave. I have my duty-" 

"Oh, hang your duty," she snarls, slamming her fists on the table. He can feel her mana spike, and it makes him shudder. With a start, he realizes he could remove her powers with a smite. He could leave her helpless, like so many times before when he felt helpless under the never ending shadow of Anna Hawke. And instantly, he feels ashamed for even thinking of hurting his sister. "Carver-" 

"No," his voice is bitter and hollow, "I am not a child. You have made your choice and I must make mine. You can't expect me to drop everything because Big Sister says so." 

Her mouth drops, her eyes widen. His words hang between them, toxic and oh, so hurtful. Carver sees the way she rounded in on herself, willed herself to say something. For once, his sister is quiet. There was no sound in the room, until finally she whispers, "I'm not asking this because I want to boss you around, Carv. I'm asking because I'm scared. I can't lose you too. You're the only family I have left." 

Asking. She was asking. Carver hears the word, and it echos in his head. Always it had been that he did as Anna said. She was the eldest after all. She had held their family together, and yet somehow she had failed. This was her having to face this all over again, and realizing that she may still lose it all. "There's Gamlen," he says lamely. 

She rewarded him with a weak laugh, "he's not a Hawke. He's also a pain in the ass. I'll ask if he wants to go with you, but-" 

At this, he raises his head to look at her, "hold on. You mean go with us, right?" 

Hawke winced, before shaking her head. He begins to protest but she holds up a hand, her eyes pleading with him, "I'm the target. If there's any chance I can throw them off your trail, off everyone's trail, I have to take it. One of us has to live, and I bet they'll be more lenient with the templar than with the apostate who allowed one of her companions to blow up the chantry."

Her blue eyes flashed darkly, and he knew she was thinking of Anders. Hawke had let him live, he'd learnt later on. After he had stepped between the Champion and Meredith, unwilling to allow anyone harm his sister. 

Just like she was trying to do now. Sighing heavily, he grasped his head in his hands. The thought of an Exalted March was terrifying, he knew the stories as well as anyone. The idea that his sister could be the target, that there is nowhere for her to hide... It's too much. 

I'm all alone too, he wants to tell her. I don't want to be, but I've been alone for a long time. "You don't have to take care of me, Anna. But you do have to take care of yourself. Go. You know how to run."

She goes paler than he's ever seen her. For a moment he is afraid she will faint but she merely turns her gaze to the fire, and all he can see is the night he found out their mother had been killed. He'd come home - no, not home for the Amell estate had never been his home - and she was standing in front of the fire, holding herself rigid, oblivious to the world. It wasn’t the fire that had scared him even though he could feel the heat from across the room, but the fact that she was standing so still and silent.

Anna was never still and silent. 

And yet, here she was again, staring into the fire and not saying a word. He moved towards her, unsure of what to say. Tears were falling down her face, her sky-blue eyes watery and oh, so sad. His heart ached and he felt his throat close up. “Please come,” she begs, her voice barely a whisper, “It’s just us, Carver. I love you.”

It was too much. He turns on his heel, and leaves.

***

“What do you mean, you don’t think he’s coming?” Aveline asks as she crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow. 

Hawke swallows, running her hand over a book. She steals a glance around the room, the library where she has made so many memories. Lazy afternoons where she read to Fenris, his eyes closed while she painted worlds with her words. “He… he has his duty, he said.”

“That bloody idiot.”

“Something like that,” she manages a weak smile before sighing, “I’m sorry I wasted your time. I know with… with everything, stepping away for awhile wouldn’t have been easy. At least now you won’t have to.”

Shrugging, Aveline looks closely at her friend, “and you, Hawke? What will you do now?”

She doesn’t know. There are maps in the bags she has packed, but she has no idea where to go. This is home. “Maybe I don’t have to go.”

“You mean to stay here?” Fenris’ asks sharply as he enters the library, his sword on his back.

“Carver is staying,” turning to him, she has to stop herself from going to him, letting him hold her while the fear won't leave her. There’ll be time for that later, she tells herself. “I… Fenris, he’s my brother.”

“He’s thick,” mutters Aveline.

This makes her chuckle. Hawke nods, her smile crooked, "he always has been. I suppose... Fenris, you don't have to stay." 

The elf stills, his dark brows scowling. "Where you go, I go. I thought I had made myself clear on this, Hawke." 

"But Carver-"

"If I'd known you would have Fenris by your side, I would have been more inclined to this journey, sister." Carver walks in, out of templar armor. The atmosphere in the room goes tense, even though Carver's tone had been light. 

"What's this, then?" Aveline is the one to break the silence, crossing her arms over her chest. "Where is all that fancy templar armour of yours?" 

"Not much of an Order left," he mumbles, wishing his sister would look at him. "I thought of a plan, Sister." 

"There is already a plan," annoyance is clear in Fenris' voice. 

Hawke shakes her head slightly at Fenris, turning her eyes on Carver. She studies him for a second before nodding, "what is it?" 

"You have to get out of the city. "

Fenris snarls, "she will not leave without you."

Carver resists the urge to snap back, reminds himself that Fenris’ hand through his chest will help no one. Instead he takes a deep breath before walking over to Hawke, not saying anything until she looks up at him. “Anna, they’re coming for you,” he murmurs as he takes his sister’s hands. Have they always been so small? “You were right-”

“We’ll never hear the end of it now,” sighs Aveline, “keep feeding her ego, Carver. I’m sure she doesn’t get told she’s right often enough for her liking.”

Her glares over at the red-haired woman before shaking his head, “there are going to be Seekers and Maker knows what else. You have to get out of Kirkwall. It isn’t safe here for you.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“As I said,” Fenris growls as he walks over to lean against the wall, scowling at Carver. “You said you had a plan. I hope it is one that will get her out of here.”

“You too,” Carver nods before turning to Aveline, “how is the Guard holding up?”

“Thin and ragged,” she admits with a wince, “we’re running damage control and trying to stop the fighting.”

“Fighting?” Hawke asks, her eyebrows raising, “I thought Cullen ordered the Order to-”

Aveline pinches the bridge of her nose, unable to hide the weariness, “he did. It isn’t the Order, Hawke… It’s the people.”

“The People?” she repeats stupidly, “the Dalish?”

“No, sister,” Carver hesitates, looking at Aveline. She nods and he continues, “the people of Kirkwall.”

“They’re… they’re fighting? But why-”

“They fear their neighbors to be mages,” Fenris says, his mouth setting into a hard line when Aveline nods in confirmation.

A shocked gasp comes out of Hawke, her hand flying to her mouth. She blinks rapidly, shaking her head, “but… no. No! They can’t-”

“They’re scared,” Aveline says, her voice worn and tired. They can hear the pain of not being able to do enough clear in her voice. “We’re trying to stop it, Hawke. We will, I have men patrolling-”

“You could always use a bit more,” Carver says quickly.

Aveline snorts, “of course we could. And people are stepping up, unwilling to see their city fall to chaos-”

“Then let me join.”

Hawke lets out a sigh, “Carver-”

“Hear me out,” he begs, looking down into her blue eyes. Their Papa’s eyes, and his too, if he lets himself be honest, “I’ll stay here for awhile, help Aveline out. The Seekers will expect me to be in the Order, which I won’t be. And this way, I can keep an ear to the ground. If things get worse, we will let you know. I’ll ask Aveline to take me… out of Kirkwall, just like you want. Varric won’t leave either, Anna. This is his home.”

“It’s mine too,” her voice is small, so unlike his sister. Her eyes gloss over momentarily before lifting her chin. She looks at Fenris, and he holds her stare before he nods. “You… you agree this is a good plan?”

“It is not a bad one,” he says slowly, looking at Carver, “They do not seek Carver. We had planned to go our own way, and have him go with Aveline. This is a variation of the plan, but it allows him to be useful.”

Aveline frowns, “that’s well and all, but what am I to do when you go into lyrium withdrawal? I bet the Knight-Commander won’t be willing to keep supplying an Ex-Templar no longer under his command.”

Carver hisses out a breath, the truth of her words hitting him square in the chest. He was a Templar no longer. Hawke, ever observant, notices the way he has stiffened. His fists have curled into fists and his eyes blaze with anger. “We’ll find a smuggler, of course,” she says easily, going to her desk and pulling out a coin pouch out of the top drawer.

Behind her, Fenris sighs, “Hawke, I have told you that is a good way to get robbed. It is a predictable place to keep your gold, and-”

“It’s not the only place I keep my gold,” she says it cheerfully, enough to remind them all of the Hawke they’ve known for years, “besides, who’s going to rob the Champ-”. She stops, tilts her head as a silent battle wars across her face. Finally, says -with a bit less cheerfulness- “who’s going to rob us when we have a fearsome mabari around?”

“Fearsome indeed,” Aveline snorts, her gaze landing on the mabari who slept in front of the fireplace, “what do you plan to do with him? Do you mean to take him?”

“I figured you could continue to take him,” at this, the mabari lifts up his head and lets out a startled bark. “Oh come now, boy. Just for a bit, until things calm down some. Aveline could sure use your help. Once things calm down, we’ll come get you. We’ll find you a huge field to run in, wherever we settle down.” The mabari mulls this over, accepts this (though his eyes still seem wounded) and trots over to Aveline, letting out a small whine. 

“We’ll miss her too,” she whispered to the mabari, petting his head.

Hawke goes back to the letter, “Carver, what does Cullen think of you up and leaving?”

“He doesn’t fault me. He… he told me to tell you that he can’t do anything for you, once the Chantry brings its army,” Carver takes the note and gold she places in his hands, grunting when she wraps her arms around him, “Maker but you’re tiny, Anna.”

“And even so, I could beat you in a fight,” her voice is thick and laced with so many memories, “you’ll write to me? Carver, I swear to Andraste that if I hear that things have turned for the worst and you’re still here, I will turn back around and make my own Exalted March to Kirkwall.”

Aveline chuckles, “For Kirkwall’s sake, should things get bad, I will take him out of here. Even if I have to knock him over the head.”

“You may have to,” Fenris mutters as he accepts the bag that Hawke hands him. “Isabela has a ship waiting for us at the dock. She may still be at the Hanged Man.”

“We’ll check on the way. Aveline, I’ve asked Orana to go to the barracks. She can help feed your lot, but mind no one tries anything. She’s dear to me.”

Carver watches the way Fenris’ face reddens at this, and he is tempted to ask. Instead, Aveline clasps his shoulder and says, “we’ll keep her safe until you’re ready for her as well. We could use some good cooking for awhile. Broth and bread gets tiresome.”

Hawke nods, pulling back from Carver’s arms. She stares up at him, framing his face with her hands. “You stay safe. Don’t be reckless. I won’t be able to heal you.”

“You haven’t been able to for a long while,” he says before he can stop it. He shifts uncomfortably, seeing the understanding in her eyes, “you be careful too. I won’t be able to protect you.”

She smiles crookedly, “I think the current situation we’re in goes to show that you haven’t been able to for a long time.”

“Hawke…” Fenris says softly, placing his arm on her shoulder. She nods and reaches up to kiss Carver’s cheek. Fenris looks at Carver, ignoring the tug of envy he feels. “Carver. Do not play the hero.”

“I won’t,” he promises, holding out his hand for Fenris to shake before he remembers that Fenris does not like to be touched. He is surprised when the elf shakes it, quickly but sturdy, “I’ve seen what playing hero will do to you. Fenris, she’s all the family I have left. Take care of her.”

“With my life.”

“It’s not going to come to that,” Hawke mutters, hugging Aveline. “Merrill-”

Aveline shakes her head, handing Hawke the second bag she’s packed along with a staff she knows is not her favourite. It looks like a walking stick, if not for the gem at the top, “Varric is taking care of her. Hawke, stop fretting and go.”

“Can’t help it. It’s what I do,” but she allows to be led towards the door. 

She tries not to look back at what she is leaving behind. She hasn’t, in the past, when they’d been dragged from their homes as children because it’d gotten too dangerous to stay in one place. But this time, she can’t help it. She’s gained so much and lost much much more, and now she’s leaving behind a piece of her soul in this city that no longer needs her.

Hawke looks back, and sees the fear just as clear in Carver’s eyes. She also sees something familiar, something she’s seen before as they left their homes. 

She sees that stubborn determination, that this time things will get better. One way or another.

And she is foolish enough to believe him.


End file.
